


Sneedly's Law

by Peanut_Butter_Octopus



Category: Captain Underpants Series - Dav Pilkey
Genre: Arrest, Attempted Murder, Attempted Poisoning, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Extreme Maltreatment, It's pretty deep alright, Mrs. Sneedly's an evil monster, Sickfic, Swearing, Threats, Violence, altercations, etc - Freeform, hallucination, this is really bad okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_Butter_Octopus/pseuds/Peanut_Butter_Octopus
Summary: We get a peer into the life of Melvin Sneedly, during a particularly bad case of the flu, we get to see exactly what life is like for him when his parents are a bit too hyped up on scientific exploration... and rage.Note: Melvin makes it to the end of the story, if anything disturbing or violent occurs, do not be afraid for Melvin's life. I could never bring myself to kill him. He'll be alright.Note: Melvin's parents, canonically, are neglectful, not abusive, and I understand this. Just imagine they're inebriated.Another Note: Nurse Offstill belongs to guiltyhipster.tumblr.com





	1. I Don't Feel Well

Melvin woke up, on a Wednesday morning, bumping his head against the wall as he stumbled out of bed, exhausted. 

 

He spent all night wide awake, eyes open and hollow with despair and misery, because every time he rested in bed on his back, air in his chest would swirl around and upward, sending him lunging forward, coughing loudly into both hands. 

 

Melvin made the executive decision that this was more than his asthma, seeing as frantic puffs from his inhaler seemed to do nothing for him that night, and he wandered into his parents’ bedroom, to tell them that he didn’t feel well. 

 

Melvin had walked up to his father’s side of the bed, tugging on his pajama sleeve, hoping to get a cool hand laid onto his sweaty forehead, and be hoisted onto his father’s hip. 

 

Melvin’s always dreamed of that scenario, being carried into the bathroom, plopped onto the edge of the sink, probed with a thermometer, and given a worried look from his father, before his mother is called to come look. 

 

He’d get to spend a calm night in bed, breathing settled after three spoonfuls of grape-flavored cough syrup, and a rock-solid vaporizer whirring away near his sleeping body. 

 

He’d get to spend an even calmer day on the couch, lying back with a sticky gel sheet attached to his forehead, and the television remote next to him, taking every few moments or so to take sips of ice cold water.

 

But alas, that was only a dream, for in reality, Melvin’s father simply turned away from Melvin, and muttered something about ‘that obnoxious cat should know it’s too late to feed it’. 

 

Melvin took a long, drawn-out inhale, before struggling not to cough over his sentence. “D-dad….Mom? I-I don’t feel-,” is what the ginger-haired boy started to say, until his mother interrupted him, still asleep. 

 

“-Go back to your box, you noisy cat!,” she snapped, before Melvin’s father turned back over. 

 

Melvin was used to his parents not paying attention to him, always assuming it was the cat bugging them, so they could snap back as harshly as they wanted. 

 

Melvin felt nauseous, and wobbled toward his parents’ bedroom door, so he could go to the bathroom. His eyelids drooping as he blindly tried to wander out of the room, only to head back to his father’s bedside. 

 

The contents of Melvin’s stomach swirled, and flipped without Melvin moving at all, it felt like his stomach was inverting on itself. ‘Oh no, please don’t, they’ll get mad at me, please don’t let me do it’, Melvin begged and pleaded in his thoughts. 

 

Though it was too late, Melvin’s cheeks bulged, and he lurched forward to vomit- all over what he assumed were his father’s house shoes. 

 

Melvin was starting to feel particularly worse for wear, his throat was starting to pound and swell, and every time he swallowed it triggered a sharp pain, his stomach was twisting and whirling at an exceptional speed, and his lungs were still crumpling in and out, congested and irritated. 

 

Melvin sat on the floor of his parents’ bedroom, and started to cry silently, his tears wetting the neck and chest of his pajama shirt. It was pathetic, but then again, I’m pretty sure any miserably sick nine-year-old with dismissive parents would look pathetic. 

 

Melvin’s mother sat upright, and groggily put on her glasses, turning on the light on her nightstand. “Melvin, what on Earth are you doing? It’s one in the morning!,” she asked, exasperated. Melvin could only reply with hiccuping sobs, as he gestured toward the pool of vomit on his father’s flip-flops. 

 

“Oh for goodness sake, really?! Wake up honey,” Mrs. Sneedly groaned, kicking at her husband until he snapped awake, confused. 

 

Melvin felt a twinge of jealousy, his father got to be called “honey” and “darling” and “dear”, all Melvin got was his first name, his full name if he was lucky enough for his mother to be upset with him. 

 

Mr. Sneedly peered down at the atrocity beneath him, and stuck out his tongue in disgust. “Melvin, that’s ridiculous, you’re a big boy, you’re old enough to try and get to the toilet,” he scolded his son. 

 

Melvin, over his aching throat and brand-new, blinding headache, argued, “I couldn’t see, I didn’t have time to put my glasses on,”. 

 

Melvin’s mother rolled her eyes, and went back to lying down, “You know where the bleach is Melvin, clean up this mess and then go back to bed, you have school in the morning,” she said. Melvin’s father turned to face away from him as well. 

 

Melvin sighed, he knew if the vomit wasn’t cleaned, he’d get lectured tomorrow morning, so he threw some vomit absorbent over the spill, and then scooped it into a plastic bag, before pouring carpet cleaner over the remaining stain. 

 

Dead tired, Melvin tossed the vomit-filled bag in the trash, and crawled into bed, being kept awake by that hacking cough until 6:00 in the morning. 

 

Cut to the Wednesday again, and Melvin is trudging through the halls, sullen and pathetic-looking, eyes sunken, face flushed and sweaty, red, dripping nose, and a scary-sounding voice, from his sore, scratchy throat. 

 

George and Harold were gossiping at their lockers, which were right next to Melvin’s. Melvin made the active decision to ignore them, as he struggled to not burst into a disgusting coughing fit, and grab his books. 

 

He ultimately failed at both of those things, both starting to cough, and dropping his books. George and Harold looked over at him, stopping their conversation. 

 

“You okay Melvin?,” Harold asked, worriedly messing with his fingers. Melvin cleared his throat, and stared at the two of them. 

 

“I’m fine,” Melvin responded, his voice still hoarse and shaken. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, before wiping his hand on his pants, and continued to rummage through his locker. 

 

“You sure? Because you sound like you’re getting sick,” Harold responded, this made George jump, before barreling into his locker and shutting the door. 

 

“Aww no! Dude, go to Nurse Offstill, go home, just don’t stay here! Euch!,” George whimpered squeamishly, kicking his feet in germophobia-induced fear. 

 

Melvin sighed, and trudged to Nurse Offstill’s office, hearing the pleasant sound of her humming to some unrecognizable jazz tune. Melvin opened the door, and saw Nurse Offstill standing as she placed a bandage on a child’s scraped knee. 

 

Melvin sat down in one of the chairs lined up against the wall, and waited to be seen, he was behind a kindergarten girl who had lost three teeth, and a fifth grade boy with a bloody nose. 

 

Nurse Offstill was distracted by the two patients in front of him, and once the fifth grader left, she grabbed a spray bottle, and started to clean off her medicine cabinet, until the sound of Melvin harshly coughing into his lap made her flinch. 

 

Turning her head in his direction, Offstill quickly slammed her bottle on top of the cabinet, and walked towards Melvin. “Oh man… this is far from our usual routine, I can see that now,” she said, pulling off both of her gloves and pressing a hand to Melvin’s forehead. 

 

Melvin sighed in relief, her cool, soft hand felt so good against his hot skin. 

 

Nurse Offstill looked at Melvin with worry, and grabbed her digital thermometer out of the medicine cabinet, popping it underneath Melvin’s tongue. 

 

Melvin rubbed his feet together as the thermometer registered, once it beeped, Nurse Offstill removed the cap from the probe, and read the results on the screen. Her face quickly went from nonchalant, to extremely concerned, as her brow furrowed in confusion. 

 

“What’s it say?,” Melvin asked curiously. Nurse Offstill handed him the still- available view screen, as she headed to the phone. 

 

Melvin looked at the numbers and his eyes widened. Right there, plain as day, in bright red, flashing numbers, was “104.2”. 

 

Welp, now there was no guesswork, no denial, Melvin had a raging fever. 

 

“Yes, hello, this is Denise Offstill, the Jerome Horwitz Elementary school nurse, your son has a high fever and needs to be taken home immediately, feel free to head up to the school once you get this message, goodbye,” Nurse Offstill said, Melvin’s parents weren’t answering the phone, even though Melvin knew they were both home right now. 

 

“Well, if they don’t come pick you up, I’ll just have to take care of you here,” Nurse Offstill said, before picking Melvin up and lying him down on one of the cots in her office. 

 

Melvin felt something cool and soft cover everything from the neck down on him, and then something cold and wet across his forehead. A sheet and what he assumed was a compress that had been in the freezer. 

 

“So is this new? Or do your parents know you’re sick? Do you feel any other symptoms?,” Nurse Offstill asked. Melvin sighed, and decided to be perfectly honest. 

 

“I started getting sick last night, and I’m not sure if my parents don’t know, or they know and don’t care, also, what did you mean when you asked the third question?,” Melvin responded. Nurse Offstill turned the sign on her door to “Do Not Disturb”, this was serious, and she needed some time to get to the bottom of it. 

 

“I mean other symptoms besides fever,” Offstill said, “Coughing,” Melvin nodded, “Sneezing”, Melvin shook his head, “Runny or stuffy nose,” Melvin nodded again, “Sore throat,” Melvin nodded, “Headache,” Melvin nodded, “Nausea and/or vomiting,” Melvin nodded, “Stomach pain,” Melvin nodded, “Body aches,” Melvin nodded, Nurse Offstill stopped there, she didn’t need to finish off the list with chills, because Melvin shuddering pitifully answered that for her. 

 

“So, your parents decided that, despite you being sick last night, you’d go to school today anyway?,” Nurse Offstill asked. Melvin was starting to get tired, the cot was so comfortable, he’d been on his feet and awake for so long, but he pulled it together. 

 

“I went into their room, and told them I didn’t feel well, They both yelled at me, thinking I was the cat, then I threw up on Dad’s slippers, and Mom woke up, but all she and Dad did was get upset with me, and told me I could make it to the bathroom, then Mom told me to clean up the mess and go back to bed,” Melvin moaned raspily, in between fits of coughing. 

 

Nurse Offstill rubbed his back, and bit her lip, she was beyond angry. “It’ll be alright Melvin, it’ll be okay,” she said. Melvin whimpered, and sniffled, grabbing a tissue and blowing his nose. 

 

“Mom and Dad have never really taken care of me like this, thank you,” Melvin said, weakly, before dozing off. 


	2. Fantasy Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melvin's finally getting the treatment of his dreams, after years of dreamily watching medicine commercials, he gets his wishes granted, and it's glorious.

Melvin wakes up… in his actual bed, which is confusing, he feels something soft and cool touching his forehead. Straining his eyes and looking up, he sees that it’s his mother’s hand. Under the covers, Melvin pinches himself, to make sure this isn’t a dream. 

 

Mrs. Sneedly is still staring at Melvin with an emotionless expression, but she slips a digital thermometer under his tongue, and waits, before writing the number down on a clipboard. He hears her mumbling something about .2 degrees, before she stares at him again. 

 

Melvin wonders how far this newfound luck will take him, and to his surprise, his mother unscrews the cap of a bottle containing a thin, purple liquid, pouring a tablespoon, and holding it forward. 

 

Melvin is giddy with excitement, and opens his mouth, the medicine tastes odd, but he doesn’t care, the artificial grape flavor must be what true bonding tastes like. Two more spoonfuls, and he’s finished, Melvin is in heaven, happily accepting his mother ruffling his hair, before leaving the room. 

 

Melvin turns over, the medication working its magic, and falls asleep for about an hour or so. Only to be woken up by his mother shaking his left shoulder. 

 

Sitting up and putting his glasses on, Melvin watches as a glass is thrust into his hands, it’s cold, and condensing, it’s fizzy, he can hear the bubbles popping from his seat. Ginger ale, it’s ginger ale. 

 

“Drink,” Mrs. Sneedly prods, completely monotone. Melvin obliges, taking slow and gentle sips, before setting the half-empty glass on his nightstand, and going back to sleep. 

 

He thinks his mother kissed his hair this time, he’s not sure. 

 

The next day, Melvin grabs a conveniently placed trashcan that was at his bedside, and tosses his cookies into it. He feels miserable still, and leans back against his pillows, sweat dripping from his hairline. 

 

A few minutes later, Mrs. Sneedly walks in again, and brushes the back of her hand against Melvin’s forehead, before checking his temperature. Again, Melvin hears her mumble something about his temperature being another half degree higher. 

 

Melvin’s mother scoops the ginger-haired nine-year old into her arms, and carries him into the living room, plopping him onto the couch, and draping a blanket over his form. She opened one of those cooling gel forehead stickers, and stuck it onto Melvin’s forehead. 

 

Melvin watched as she retreated back into her own world with his father, and their experiments. Melvin sighed, and switched on the television, spending his time watching educational programming, halfway paying attention in between breaks to blow and wipe his nose, or throw up into the garbage can again. 

 

Eventually, Melvin started coughing and couldn’t stop, gasping for breath in between bouts of lung-bruising hacking. Mrs. Sneedly walked into the room, holding the bottle of multi-symptom cough syrup in her hand. 

 

Melvin watched her sit next to him, pour a tablespoon of the medicine, and pour it into his mouth. Melvin felt loved, it was amazing. Another spoonful, and another, and he was finished. Mrs. Sneedly took his temperature again, no improvement, according to her. 

 

Melvin sat in shock and awe as a warm cup was placed into his hands. A brand of throat coat tea that smelled like raspberries, which he knew hadn’t been sitting in the back of a cupboard somewhere. Melvin thanked his mother, his voice still extremely hoarse, and took a sip, it tasted smooth, and felt amazing trickling down his raw throat. 

 

Melvin spent a majority of the afternoon rested against the pillows, tea in his hands, and NOVA on the television. His throat felt a little better, and the gel sheet cooled him off. 

 

At about 5 pm, his mother came back into the living room to check his temperature- still climbing, he was at about 104.9 now- and ask if he was hungry. Melvin, feeling nauseous still, responded that he wasn’t hungry. Mrs. Sneedly nodded, and changed the cooling gel sheet on his forehead, before leaving the room. 

 

Melvin felt his stomach swirl again, and he hunched over to vomit into the trash can again. Sweat was starting to drop down from his face, onto the fabric of his pajamas. His throat was sore again, and he could barely breathe, cough, or swallow without a burst of tooth-gnashing pain. 

 

“Mom-,” Melvin raspily called from his spot on the couch, finding it harder and harder to speak, his throat raw and damaged. His skin felt searing, and his vision was starting to blur. Melvin sat back against the pillows behind him, and hoped his mother heard him, as his eyes unfocused, and sweat began to run down his face, neck, and back in pools. 

 

Mrs. Sneedly walked back into the room, looking at Melvin and rolling her eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead, and rolling her eyes harder, hoisting Melvin over her shoulder, rubbing his drenched back as she carried him to the bathroom. 

 

Melvin still stared at her straight face in awe, as she set him down on the edge of the sink, and reached inside the medicine cabinet for a bottle that was red. Tylenol was plastered on the pink label, with the word “Flu” in little white letters underneath. 

 

Melvin obediently opened his mouth as two spoonfuls were poured onto his tongue. Gulping, he thought about what it tasted like. Cherries, it tasted like cherries. 

 

Melvin’s mother checked his temperature again, and she hit her face with the palm of her hand, Melvin heard her mumble the words “105.2”. Melvin started to get tired, and he stopped paying attention to his surroundings, subtly feeling his mother unbuttoning his pajama shirt, and sliding off his pants, folding them and setting them on the floor. 

Melvin sat on the edge of the sink in his underpants, feverish sweat dripping off of his hair and landing on his chubby little thighs. He could hear water running, and felt the brisk chill that filled the air. Shuddering and biting his lip, Melvin took off his glasses, and placed them on the counter. 

 

Melvin’s mother hoisted him into the air, and placed him into the bath tub. The water was ice cold, which made Melvin yelp. “Quiet Melvin,” Mrs. Sneedly sighed. These were the first words she’d spoken to him since he came home yesterday. 

 

Melvin continued to shiver, sniffling as he let his mother scrub his body, and wash his sweat-scented hair. Melvin stared at his reflection in the water, and cringed with disgust. 

 

His eyes had faded purple bags under them, and his cheeks were bright red with fever, his face pale and sweaty, the only feature aside from his cheeks that stood out, was his nose, rosy and shiny. 

 

He looked pitiful, and gross. Melvin stuck his tongue out at his reflection, before his mother hoisted him out of the water, and toweled him off, before sliding fresh pajama pants on his legs, and a fresh pajama shirt, which she buttoned up. Melvin noticed that this pair was made of flannel just like his other pairs, but it was new, it still had that fabric softener smell. It also had a human heart pattern, which Melvin liked. 

 

Melvin’s mother carried him back to bed, and put the back of her hand against his cheeks, and his forehead. 


	3. Reality Shattering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the more intense chapters of the story, I warn you, if you have any triggers involving child abuse, tread lightly. 
> 
> I promise all of you, Melvin makes it to the end of the fanfic, so do not worry, his life is not in any immediate danger.

Melvin suddenly looked up, and noticed that she was phasing in and out of his vision. Melvin reached out to touch her, “M-mommy?,” he asked, his voice wavering as she began to fade out of sight.

 

“M-mommy?! Mommy! MOMMYYY!,” Melvin screamed, gripping his head out of fear. She had disappeared. Melvin’s eyes began to overflow with tears, and he took a deep, gasping inhale, before surveying the room with his eyes.

 

She was no longer there, she, she had left him. Melvin buried his face in his hands, and screeched to the air, “MOMMYYY! COME BACK! P-please… Mommy, come back… M-mommy!,” He called out to her for a solid minute, only to get no response, and to not see head or tail of her. 

 

Melvin snapped to attention, having woken up from his fever-induced hallucination, he was wearing the same old pair of plaid flannel. He was drenched with sweat, and his breathing was heavy. 

 

Melvin crawled to the edge of his bed, and surveyed the room, shocked into submission, he couldn’t see or hear anything. That is, until he jumped back in fear, as a vase flew at him, and shattered against his headboard. 

 

“I swear to god, if you don’t shut the fuck up Melvin! I am trying to get some work done, and all I can hear is your non-stop screaming,” Mrs. Sneedly screamed. 

 

Melvin’s eyes watered, and he began to bawl furiously into his bedspread, she hadn’t taken care of him… he’d taken care of himself… very poorly. She threw a vase at him… just like last time. Same old, same old, he’d have to keep fending for himself. 

 

Melvin looked at his bedside table, where shattered parts of the vase were sitting. There, on a coaster, was a warm glass of flat ginger ale. All the things that he thought she had done to help him, never actually happened. 

 

“M-mommy,” he whispered, wiping his tears with his sweaty palms, blinking back more tears as he slowly crawled out of bed, tiptoeing past his parents’ workshop to get to the kitchen, he needed a glass of water. 

 

Suddenly, Melvin felt a force slam him against the wall. He looked up, at the looming form of his mother, her mouth twisted into a scowl, glaring at him sinisterly. 

 

Melvin took a ragged breath, and he reached up for her, tears in his eyes. “P-please…. M-mommy… Mommy,” he begged, his words disturbed by deep, heaving sobs. 

 

Mrs. Sneedly’s eyes softened, and her mouth curled into a small smile. “Why of course, dear, come here,” she coaxed, holding out her arms, and letting Melvin go forward to try and hug her. 

 

Melvin felt elated, he was finally going to get his fantasy. He was finally going to be taken care of. 

 

Or not. 

 

Melvin gasped as Mrs. Sneedly grabbed his arm, and swung him backward, his head hitting the wall behind them, as he dropped to the ground. 

 

“What in the  **hell** do you take me for Melvin?!,” Mrs. Sneedly snapped, her voice a low, snarling growl as she glared daggers at him. Melvin suddenly gripped his stomach, everything hurt, and he just wanted to crawl back in bed and pretend nothing happened. 

 

“U-uhmm…. You’re the smartest Mommy I’ve ever had, a-and I l-love you??,” Melvin asked, hoping this was the right answer, otherwise, he’d get flung into the ceiling by his arm, and that wouldn’t really end well for him. 

 

“You’re damn right I am, but you know what I’m not, Melvin. Sneedly?!,” Mrs. Sneedly snarled, her fingers clenching into tight claws as she hovered over him. 

 

“Uhmmm…. Uhh… I-I…,” Melvin stammered, before he felt a sudden urge to release the contents of his stomach, and he couldn’t just get up, and run to the toilet, she’d lash him. He lurched over and vomited on the carpet, a tiny amount getting onto Mrs. Sneedly’s feet. 

 

“Here’s a hint you little  **shit** ,” Mrs. Sneedly growled, angry beyond comprehension at this point, slamming Melvin against the wall and holding him there with both hands, “I’m not, your fucking,  **_Mommy_ ** !,”

 

Melvin’s eyes began to overflow with tears, they began to soak his pajama shirt collar. He was trying not to make any sudden movements, afraid she’d punch him. As she wound her arm back, Melvin flinched, assuming the worst. 

 

Mrs. Sneedly screamed at the ceiling, before shoving herself away from Melvin, and reeling her foot back, before raising it up, and planting a firm kick, right in the center of Melvin’s abdomen. 

 

Melvin dropped to his knees, wailing cries filling the air, as Mr. Sneedly ran into the room, a glass in his hand, and an angry look on his face.

 

“I miscalculated on the formula for my latest experiment, thanks to you and your little whining!,” Mr. Sneedly yelled, reeling his arm back, and throwing the glass, aiming for Melvin’s head. 

 

Melvin gasped, and ducked, rolling over as the glass shattered against the wall, a shard striking him in the cheek, and making it bleed. 

 

Melvin whimpered in fear, and crawled back into his bedroom, both of his parents shrieking obscenities at him as he tried to escape from them. 

 

Body racked with pain, both from the flu, and from the exertion of the experience, Melvin curled into a ball on his bed, and continued to bawl into his knees. 

 

Melvin waited until he was sure his parents were no longer paying attention, and crawled out of his room, slinking along the floor to the kitchen, he was still so desperately thirsty. 

 

Reaching the kitchen at last, Melvin crawled onto the kitchen counter, grabbing a glass, and gently setting it down without making a sound, before getting onto the ground again, and crawling to the fridge. 

 

Melvin looked at the jug of ice cold water resting on one of the shelves of the fridge, and stared at it, it was different. 

 

Gripping the edge of the label, Melvin began to peel it back, only for it to reveal something shocking, that made Melvin want to vomit and start crying again.

 

In big, bold, white letters, read the word, “Bleach”. Melvin backed away, shocked, until he saw a note on the fridge, and began to read it. 

 

“There’s something special, just for you sweetheart, I know you’re thirsty! - Mommy,” the note read, with little pink hearts tracing the edge of the note. 

 

Melvin decided he’d get water from the sink, that way he at least knew it wasn’t tainted. He guzzled the water from his glass, and gave a relieved sigh, before setting the glass into the sink. 

 

Melvin crawled back into his bedroom, and pulled the covers over his head, before curling into a ball, and weeping with despair. He wished they’d treat him better. He wished they’d stop trying to hurt him. He just wanted to be okay. 

 

Melvin had dozed off, and when he woke up, he saw George and Harold in front of him, on their knees, eyes wide with fear. 

 

“You’re awake!,” George exclaimed, hugging him tightly. Melvin pinched himself once more, hoping that this wasn’t a dream. 

 

Harold sighed, and placed a cool hand on Melvin’s steaming forehead, before jumping back. “Oh god, Melvin! That hurt, you’re really sick, aren’t you?!,” he asked, concerned.

 

Melvin nodded weakly, not feeling like giving words the time of day. Melvin moved his hands around, and felt grass, wet, cold grass. He was outside.

 

How did he get outside? Melvin looked over at his bedroom window, and saw a hole, shaped like him, in the window. The window was cracked in several places, along with a few random dents. 

 

His parents… his mother most likely… had thrown him… out the window, out of anger. Melvin rolled onto his side, and groaned out of pain. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, he just wanted to be rescued. 

 

Suddenly, as Melvin continued to move his hands, he tried to touch Harold, but his hand went straight through him. Not again, not again, please. Melvin ground his teeth, and started screaming. 

 

“G-george?! Harold?! GEORGE! HAROLD!,” Melvin screeched, holding the top of his head with both hands, tears dripping from his eyes. It was so unbearably painful, he just wanted it to end. 

 

Melvin snapped awake, and he was on the sidewalk, in front of what appeared to be George’s house. George was standing in his walkway, shocked to see a distraught, sweat-drenched Melvin, on his hands and knees, in front of his house. 


	4. Safety Is A Breath Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melvin has woken up near George and Harold's house, and he's just seconds away from salvation. He's so close. Yet so far.

George ran over to his fence, and yelled over at Harold, “Hey Harold! Melvin’s on my sidewalk!,” Harold nodded in reply, and ran over to George’s house, both of them staring at Melvin, before approaching him.

 

“M-melvin? You alright buddy?,” George asked, confused, gripping Melvin and pulling him close.

 

Melvin stared up at George and Harold, giving a raspy moan in response, he found that talking was virtually impossible now, his throat hurt so much. 

 

Harold laid a cool hand on Melvin’s forehead, before widening his eyes in shock. “Oh god, Melvin, are you still sick?, What are you doing out here?,” he asked, concerned. 

 

Melvin gave another raspy moan, struggling to explain, but all he could give was the stripped moans erupting from his throat. Harold looked very afraid, but he sighed, and smiled at Melvin. 

 

“Let’s get you inside, alright buddy?, My mom’ll know what to do, it’ll be alright,” Harold said, helping Melvin to his feet, and walking him inside his house, George followed the two of them. 

 

Ms. Hutchins, who was washing dishes in the sink, turned over, took one look at Melvin, and jumped. “Oh my goodness! Harold, what happened?!,” she asked. 

 

“He’s sick, Mom, George and I found him on George’s sidewalk, just lying there, screaming both our names,” Harold said, trying to make sure Melvin didn’t lost control and flop onto the floor.

 

Ms. Hutchins held Melvin in her arms, and sat him down in a chair on the kitchen counter, feeling his forehead, and getting a thermometer out of one of the cabinets. Melvin felt at peace, this was what all the commercials told him bonding between parents and children was, this was his ideal scenario for love and affection. 

 

A few moments later, the thermometer beeped, and Ms. Hutchins removed it, before jumping back in shock. “105.7! You poor dear, here, let me get you some medicine, we have to bring that down,” she said, reaching higher into the cabinet, and grabbing a bottle of cherry-flavored fever reducer, pouring a spoonful, and sliding it into Melvin’s mouth. 

 

Melvin gladly swallowed the medication, the bitter, artificial taste filled him with a sensation of glee, he was being taken care of. It was heavenly, and, lucky for him, it was finally real. 

 

Ms. Hutchins put the medicine back into the cabinet, and carried Melvin to the couch in the living room, taking his shoes off and laying him down against one of the arms, before setting a cool compress on his forehead, and kissing his hair. 

 

Melvin thought he was dying, and entering heaven, this was his fantasy, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

 

“You take a nap and rest while I call your mother, I can’t imagine what she’d think if she knew you were out here, she must be worried sick!,” Ms. Hutchins said. 

 

“N-no!,” Melvin croaked, reaching out a hand, tears beginning to fill his eyes. Ms. Hutchins turned, and tilted her head in confusion.

 

“S-she doesn’t care… she’ll hurt me… please don’t call her… pretty please Momm- Uh… M-Ms. Hutchins,” Melvin pleaded, blinking black tears, his voice still rubbed raw. 

 

Ms. Hutchins put down the phone, “Well dear, I suppose I can wait a while until after you’ve had some proper rest before I try to call,” she said, heading back into the kitchen for a moment. 

 

Melvin dozed off for a bit, and almost jumped back upon waking up, to see a shadow over him. He forgot where he was, and was deeply afraid that it was his mother, come back to beat him to pieces. 

 

But no, upon adjusting to the light, Melvin gently smiled a small smile of relief, upon seeing the smiling face of Ms. Hutchins, with an ice cold glass of ginger ale in one hand. 

 

“Here you go, dear, this should help your stomach a little,” she said, wiping the sweat from his forehead and kissing him on the cheek, before setting the glass on the coffee table, and going back to drawing with Heidi at the kitchen table. 

 

Melvin took hold of the glass, and took a sip, it was amazing. Melvin just hoped his parents would forget they had a child, and never come to pick him up. 

 

Sadly, this was not the case, and a loud pounding on the door could be heard. Melvin was terrified, Ms. Hutchins didn’t keep her promise, she called his mother. 

 

Ms. Hutchins answered the door, only to be met with a stark raving mad Mrs. Sneedly, growling in fury. 

 

“Where’s my crotch-spawn?!,” Mrs. Sneedly snarled, glaring at the background behind Ms. Hutchins, hoping to catch a glimpse of Melvin, so she could just storm inside and grab him. 

 

Ms. Hutchins backed away slightly, before defensively jamming the doorway. “You seem a bit heated, how about you wait here, and I’ll get Melvin, alright? So you can calm down,” she said. 

 

Mrs. Sneedly snapped,  “Oh I’ll calm down after I beat his little ass to shreds!,” she snarled, lunging herself at Ms. Hutchins, trying to claw her way inside and destroy Melvin. 

 

Ms. Hutchins kicked Mrs. Sneedly in the pelvis, sending her sprawling back onto the walkway. Panicked, the mother of two slammed the door shut and locked it. 

 

Mrs. Sneedly slammed herself against the front door, clawing at the surface, and screaming about what she’d do to Melvin when she got in there. It was far too obscene. 

 

Ms. Hutchins grabbed the phone, and dialed 911. “Hello? I need a squad car at my home, there’s a woman here who’s been abusing her child, and she’s trying to break into my house, and I need her off my property,” she said, distraught. 

 

In about four minutes, a squad car rolled up to the front of the Hutchins residence, and two officers ran out of their car, and grabbed Mrs. Sneedly, cuffing her hands behind her back, and throwing her into the backseat. 

 

“I’ll get you for this you little  **shit** !,” Mrs. Sneedly screamed, kicking and yelling obscenities from the back of the car, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a woman of science! This is ridiculous! I demand the right to see my child! So I can wring his scrawny little neck!,”

 

The squad car rolled away, Mrs. Sneedly still fighting the officers inside behind the barrier separating the two. 

 

Ms. Hutchins took a deep breath, and turned to see Melvin, still shaking in fear, backed up against the couch as far as he could go, his breathing erratic. 

 

“Sweetheart, I’m so very sorry you have to deal with this, you should be resting, not trying to defend yourself against that  **monster** ,” Ms. Hutchins said, mumbling the words “bitch is more like it” under her breath, as she smoothed Melvin’s hair. 

 

Melvin gave a raspy, broken moan, before smiling, and leaning against Ms. Hutchins. He was safe, finally. 

 

“You just rest right here, I’ll make you some tea, it’ll be alright,” Ms. Hutchins said, heading back into the kitchen. 

 

Melvin leaned against the arm of the couch, yawning, and dozing off. 

 

He fell asleep.

 

And he wouldn’t wake up a victim of the cruel, unforgiving Sneedly’s Law. 

 

Or so he thought. Ms. Hutchins had panicked, and called his house, contacting Mr. Sneedly. 

 

“Uhm, your wife was here, and she was trying to attack your son, I’m taking care of him as of now, but I wanted to let you know that you are free to come pick him up,” Ms. Hutchins said, concerned. 

 

“Oh, I’ll come pick him up, I’ll make sure that this never happens again. I’m sorry he inconvenienced you, I promise that he’ll never be a nuisance to anyone, ever again,” Mr. Sneedly snarled, threateningly. 

 

Ms. Hutchins gasped a little, before replying in agreement, and hanging up the phone. 

 

“Good news Melvin, your father’s going to come pick you up and take you home, so he can take care of you,” Ms. Hutchins said, smiling. 

 

Melvin’s eyes were wide with panic, and he began to hyperventilate, collapsing upon himself in panic, fearing that his father would just barge in, grab him, and take him back to that hellhole, a spiral of no escape. He’d get plenty of “water” for his fever, he’s sure of it. 

 

“P-please! Call the police again! Pretty please! I’m begging you Momm- Uhm… Ms. Hutchins, I’m begging!,” Melvin rasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he panted. 

 

“Dear, I’ll make sure no one hurts you, if he tries anything, I won’t let him past the doorway, he will not lay a hand on you, I promise,” Ms. Hutchins said, wiping Melvin’s sweaty forehead once more, and gazing into his eyes, lovingly. 

 

“R-really?,” Melvin asked, grinning that he would finally get salvation, and hopefully his parents wouldn’t be able to access the money in their accounts to bail themselves out of jail. 

 

“But of course, now you rest, you still have a fever, and you shouldn’t be troubling yourself over things like this, you’re safe now,” Ms. Hutchins said, reassuringly. 

 

Melvin sighed, and leaned back against the pillows of the couch, trying to fall asleep. His eyelids were getting heavy, and he still had a pounding headache. 

 

Melvin moaned, his voice still croaky and quiet, as he shut his eyes, and fell asleep, his body succumbing to the stack of sickness plaguing his being. 

 

Melvin’s eyes shot open about an hour later, to the sound of gunshots being fired, breaking Ms. Hutchins’ window, and nearly striking Melvin’s head, only to miss and hit a vase of flowers, shattering it to bits. 

 

Melvin got up, and began to run up the staircase in the corner of the living room, hoping he’d find a safe place to hide up there. 

 

“Let me in there, I need to have him back, alright?! I need to have him back, I just want to take care of him, okay?,” Mr. Sneedly yelped from downstairs, the gun having been whacked out of his hand with a broom. 

 

Ms. Hutchins listened to thunder roar in the distance, it was about to storm, great. Gripping the doorframe, Ms. Hutchins reeled back, and launched herself forward, kicking Mr. Sneedly in the gullet, sending him to his knees, and falling down, scattered among the front steps of the Hutchins residence. 

 

Ms. Hutchins slammed the door shut, locking it and putting a chair under the knob, before calling the police once more, reporting yet another abusive parent, and an attempted home invasion. She was not taking this lying down, she would defend her children, and she would especially defend the poor, ill child of these sick, twisted monsters. 

 

Another squad car pulled up to the blue house, Mr. Sneedly being cuffed and thrown into the back, without saying a word. 

 

Ms. Hutchins turned, and saw Melvin, leaned against the steps, his breathing heavy and fast paced. She picked him up, and carried him to the couch, laying him back against the cushions, before feeling his forehead, and frowning gently. 

 

“You still feel very warm, but don’t worry dear, it’ll be alright, you don’t have to worry about either of them coming back anymore, they’re both gone,” Ms. Hutchins told Melvin, before ruffling his hair playfully, and heading back upstairs to get some work done. 

Melvin's eyelids got heavy, and he yawned, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 


End file.
